


The Shortest Way Home

by signalbeam



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Sex, Awkwardness, Bittersweet, Denial, F/M, Post-Canon, Sexual Experimentation, Subtext, Summer Vacation, Traveling, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-06
Updated: 2011-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-19 01:35:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/195429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/signalbeam/pseuds/signalbeam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As it turns out, social linking with Souji might solve some of Yukiko’s problems, but sleeping with him doesn't solve anything. Yukiko goes on a vacation in the city to test her limits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Shortest Way Home

**Author's Note:**

> Subtitle of this piece could be: why you should finish Yukiko's social link, you jerk.

When Yukiko came out of the shower, Souji was sitting on a chair wearing nothing but his boxers. She wrung her hair with her hands and a towel to keep herself from blurting that out, taking care to avoid dripping water onto the floor. She didn’t want to damage the carpet. When Souji asked, she answered honestly, and he said it was fine, really. The carpet was bamboo-fiber. It could take a lot. Even if it went bad, Dojima-san would know what to do.

Hearing that Dojima would know what to do was comforting. Not because Yukiko wanted Dojima to know that she had taken a shower in his house, but because she didn’t want to ruin the floor. Yes.

Souji still hadn’t changed back into his clothes, and the back of her sweater was getting wet. She had changed back into her uniform the second she stepped out of the shower, and regretted it now. Souji seemed comfortable with her, so she ought to feel comfortable around him.

Of course, there ought to be exceptions in place for when the other person in question was barely clothed, or when both parties had just had sex with one another. It was beginning to occur to her that doing this with Souji hadn’t been the best of ideas after all. He had been good at it, but too good. Skillful, in a manwhore-ish way, a positive in that there had been almost zero complications, but also a negative, in that she had just slept with half of the nurse's station at the municipal hospital by proxy. 

At least it had felt nice, even if she had been a bit distracted, hard as it was to be so when he was stretching her open, and then closing in. Or she was just bad at this, which made anything and anyone seem good. Manwhore-ishly good.

“You don’t have to stay,” Souji said, and she was glad he had said that because she didn’t want to stay. But she didn’t want to go sneaking out of his house, either, like a loose woman, even if that was the appropriate term for her. They weren’t even dating, and she still has so much to think about: how to get out of Inaba, how to depart from the Inn gracefully… If her mother ever found out, Yukiko wouldn’t be leaving Inaba on a quest of self-discovery, but on a quest to avoid horrific mortification. Young girl sleeps with passerby for unknown reasons. Strumpet! 

“Do you have a hairdryer?” she said.

“Sorry,” he said. He pulled a pair of pants on. Thank goodness. “It’s only Dojima-san and me, and Nanako is a little young to be worrying about that.” He looked concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said, on automatic. “You were very good, Souji-kun.” As expected. She kept that part to herself.

“Ah, well,” Souji said, smiling modestly. “You handled yourself well, too.”

She didn’t want to hear that from him. Too many unsavory implications. But she smiled and said, “Thank you.”

 

*

 

Yukiko waited until her hair stopped dripping before pulling her hair into a bun and heading back to her house. She used the hairdryer there to finish drying her hair, then went to work. The strangest part was how it felt like nothing had changed. It was still summer vacation. She didn’t feel any older or wiser or better. She knew, of course, that the fireworks and earthquakes she had read in books couldn’t possibly be true. Sex was sex; nothing special or remarkable about it, except how she would be perfectly fine with never looking at anyone in the eye again.

She was certain everyone could smell it off of her, never mind the shower she had taken right after, or the soap, or the body wash. But maybe it was that they were smelling: the telltale signs of something different in her, the stench of someone else floating off of her skin. She’d have to bathe again at the end of the day before anyone found out, but that might be suspicious and possibly bad for her skin, which didn't really matter, because she didn't plan on removing her clothes in front of anyone for the rest of the year. The rest of her life, even.

She tried to work through the dinner shift and then again late into the evening, but her parents and the staff shooed her back to her room, saying that she had better things to do, like study. She sat at her desk, her fingers drumming on the desk and wondering if that phantom feeling between her legs was her imagination or if she ought to be worried. She knew that Souji had various people that he enjoyed spending time with—that was the main reason why he rarely spent time with her—and it wasn’t as though she didn’t trust him, but—thank goodness they had used protection.

Sex. Sex. Sex. She couldn’t even think of the word without turning red, but then she had gone off and done it anyway. Maybe she should send Souji a thank you card. Oh, she wished there was a handbook for these kinds of things.

 

*

 

Yukiko didn’t tell Chie. Chie would be so sad to know that Yukiko was planning on leaving, and that would make things between them stiff again, right after they had set things into place. Yukiko, as always, woke up early, took her breakfast, left the house, and met Chie on the way to school. She sat through her classes, went into the TV—that part wasn’t normal, but that wasn’t really the point—participated in the school festival. Was there for Souji when Nanako was kidnapped by Namatame and when his uncle was in the hospital. Fought Adachi and beat the… the thing that was behind Adachi (was it a giant eyeball or a disco ball?). And on Christmas Eve, Souji texted her an invitation to his house.

It was surprising, in its own way. Souji had other people he liked better—which wasn't to say that he was sleeping with all of them, just that some people connected with Souji better, that was all—although she was certain that Chie wasn’t sleeping with Souji, too. But after sleeping with him herself, she wasn’t sure about anything. Surely Chie would never lie to her; and it wasn’t that Yukiko had lied to Chie. It didn’t count as lying if she never mentioned it.

Souji brought her up to his room. She gave him a gift, a small little phone strap that she had meant to give to him anyway, and he had smiled and said that he was glad that she had come. All he wanted to do was talk, he said, but she doubted it. There was little they _could_ talk about. Maybe all he really did want was to make conversation, but he sat next to her instead of across, and the unspoken expectation settled heavy on them as they discussed about what she had been up to, whether the television producers had been bothering her, how her license exams were going, if anyone at the Inn found out about her plans to leave.

Somewhere along the lines, she took her hands out of her lap and onto the table. One of his hands covered one of hers. His other hand was on her thigh.

“I’m sorry for not spending more time with you,” he said, quiet and gentle, but she knew where this was leading to, and didn’t know whether she should to be nervous or not.

“You’ve been busy,” she said. She wasn’t sure if she was close enough to him to point out why he was busy: Adachi, Namatame, Nanako, even poor Dojima with his broken ribs. It seemed tactless to bring it up. She brought her free hand up to her throat, and rubbed the back of her fingers against it. Souji swallowed. She could see herself in his eyes, and they were so close that it seemed inevitable that they should kiss.

“But I forgot about you,” he said, burning earnest and bright and for a moment she thought that this couldn’t be him, this couldn’t possibly be him; not what he really felt, not what he really was. She thought this, and then wondered if it mattered at all. She didn’t love him, and sex was just sex—there she went, red as always—and she discovered, with an almost horrified jerk of her stomach, that she cared less than she thought she might. And then they kissed, disconcerting for its tenderness, which shouldn't have been there, or at least, not with him.

“Wait,” she said.

“Do you not want this?” he said, and pulled his hand away from her leg. Which was the frustrating thing. She did want _this_. Just not with him. She had known that when she first slept with him, and back then it hadn’t been so bad. They had both known that she had just wanted to know what it was like. It wouldn’t do to go into the city _not_ knowing—she thought that at the time. Now—she had wanted him. And now that she had him once, she found that it wasn't him she wanted. 

She rearranged her legs and pulled her skirt over her knees. Souji pulled back as well, smoothing his hair back into place and looking almost guilty. But why should he feel guilty when she was the one who apparently gave off signals that she was the kind of girl who could be invited over for sex by a boy she didn’t like? A strident, high-pitched voice blared in the back of her head—it sounded suspiciously like her mother— _Yukiko, you are giving away your virtue, do you ever want to be married in this lifetime, shame on you._

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“No,” he said. “It happens all the time.” He was analyzing her, not like before, but the way he had before she had leaned over and kissed him in October. It was a relief. “I really did want to talk. It’s been so long.”

“Hasn’t it?” she said, but she wanted desperately to leave. Sleeping with him, she realized, had ruined everything. She didn’t trust him anymore. He wouldn’t do anything to hurt her, and that was exactly the problem. Either he should have said no to her—to everyone, really—or she never should have asked. It was easy to talk to him, but only because they were both locked into roles: him the gallant knight, and her the lady in the tower. A duel to the death, but from a distance. She wondered if it was polite to shove the knight out of the window if he came crawling through with the intent to save her.

 

*

 

Inaba without Souji was fine. Yukiko almost didn’t notice he was gone. Things went on without him as though he was never there. Other people seemed happier, although Yosuke complained that he missed Souji all the time.

Yosuke and Naoto went to visit Souji during Golden Week, and came back with gifts for everyone. Souji got her a silkscreen fan, tipped with iron and backed with steel. Slashing or stabbing. She wondered why he couldn’t have just gotten her a nice book. He had given Yosuke a study book and Chie martial arts DVDs and Naoto some kind of collectable robot and Kanji a cute, three-eared (cute?) rabbit and Rise a receipt of purchases for Risette CDs and a full body pillow. Teddie had gotten a USB drive full of things that no one needed or wanted to know about.

It was only her who got a reminder of the TV world. The bond between him and her was that weak, after all.

He had enclosed a note with his address and a little ditty saying that he didn’t think she would have appreciated a cookbook, but she wouldn’t have minded it. Surely he knew that much about her.

 

*

 

Yukiko dealt with the TV crew and producers by herself, without anyone’s help, not even Kasai or her parents or Chie. She dealt with them calmly and rationally, and when they didn’t listen to that, she threatened legal and police action. They backed off, grumbling and angry, but defeated. She was proud of herself. Now the Inn wouldn’t have to worry about their reputation being tarnished by some trashy, two-bit show. She could leave the Inn after high school with a clear conscience. And with all of that done, she decided to take up knitting again.

 

*

 

Yukiko was certain that Yosuke and Kanji had been fooling around in the back of Tatsumi’s Textiles the last time she visited, though she doubted Yosuke would have admitted it if she asked, and Rise had a small parade of admirers, which doubled in size when they realized Rise was planning on returning to the show business. Once, Yukiko saw Chie walking towards her in the hall, only for a boy to call Chie’s name. The two of them stopped and talked for a while, and then Chie went over to Yukiko and said that they’d have to meet up some other time. If they weren’t dating, then they were at least sleeping together. She counted backwards since their last sleepover, and was surprised when it had been months, not weeks. But that was a good sign, too, since it meant that Chie would get on well enough without her.

Still, it couldn’t hurt to have one for old time’s sake. Over the summer break, when they were both studying for their college entrance exams, she invited Chie for a sleepover. It should have been easy, but they couldn’t keep the conversation going, the movie was bad, and the food Chie ordered was an hour late.

“You have a boyfriend, don’t you?” Yukiko said suddenly, interrupting Chie’s grousing about all the food she could be eating now, but wasn’t.

Chie froze in mid-word. Her mouth was wide open. Then she shut it. “I’m not _dating_ him,” she said.

“So what are you doing with him?” she said. It was kind of silly, how Chie didn’t know what to say, how Chie thought that Yukiko didn’t know what it meant to sleep with someone or to have sex with them or—or to—fuck them, which Chie clearly was doing. All three of them. Maybe at the same time, even.

Yukiko had prepared herself to be angry or upset or wild and irrational, but she hadn’t expected Chie to look down at her hands and say, “I don’t know. He’s a nice guy and…” And then Chie looked up, a fire in her eyes. “You’re still the most important person to me, Yukiko, I mean it. You are.”

Yukiko took Chie’s hand in hers, almost as though on reflex—and it was a reflex, nearly. She didn’t like to see Chie hurt or in pain—and said, “I know, Chie. Of course I know that.”

Chie smiled, quick and with apparent bravery. “Are you seeing someone?” she said. “Not that I was wondering or anything.”

Yukiko thought to Souji, his hand on her leg, his fingers on the inside of her thigh, the inside of his room on Christmas Eve. Chie’s smile faltered.

“No,” she said, which wasn’t a lie, because Souji hadn’t been her boyfriend, and nothing had happened, not really. “I’m not seeing anyone.”

 

*

 

On a whim, she decided to go out to the city for the weekend. She announced this to her parents and they accepted the news with barely concealed glee. She worked too hard, they said, and needed a break. She ought to take the entire week off. She had laughed and said that there was a limit to the amount of time she could spend goofing off, with the university exams coming up soon.

She wished they would have put up a protest. She had a brief, wild fantasy of this being the last time that she saw anyone in Inaba. She had saved up some money from her translation and envelope-making jobs, enough to camp out in the city for a while if she wanted to. Of course, no one knew about that except her and Souji, and Souji didn’t talk to her parents. At least, she hoped Souji didn’t talk to her parents.

It was entirely possible that she might take off from Inaba altogether today. The last words her parents would have said to her would be, “Take care and have fun.” Oh dear. That wasn’t right at all. There was no way she could get up and leave Inaba like that.

Her parents thought she was heading for Okina City, but she was headed for Nara, where Souji was presently living. So as it turned out, Souji had been rather considerate of her. He had given her a little way out.

Just a little one, though.

 

*

Yukiko checked into her motel, a small, cheap place that measured area in centimeters and meters and not tatami mats, and went walking.

Nara was known for its beautiful cherry blossoms in the spring and magnificent foliage in the autumn, so visiting the city in the middle of the summer meant she was missing a fair bit; but looking up at the trees, she could picture the gold and red leaves and the pale, pink puffs of flowers. It was a slightly larger city than Iwatodai, but felt smaller and less glassy and intimidating. The streets had deer nosing around the sidewalks and bushes, and she felt as though she could see Buddhist temples every direction she looked.

She wasn’t a particularly religious person, but after everything that happened in Inaba, she felt a little twist of guilt every time she passed by the Tatsuhime shrine. But she felt at ease passing by the temples and shrines of Nara. The weather wasn’t so bad, either. Hot, yes, but that was what her fan was for. What a nice gift. It felt heavy in her bag, anyhow. Best to keep it out and cool herself off with it.

A nice, pleasant looking city. She couldn’t stop getting lost. She wished she had brought a camera with her; and perhaps she would get one if she saw a shop nearby. A real problem: there were too many shops and too many things to look at.

She wished she had thought this venture out a bit more. She had no idea what to do. She thought about calling Souji, but in the end, refrained. She’d find something to do in Nara by herself, without his help.

 

*

 

While walking about, she encountered a large public art exhibit. She spent an hour there tilting her head behind her fan and feeling as though she had missed the point. As a first year, she had considered joining some clubs on campus, but the only thing that she had been able to fit into her schedule was the “pin up notices on the bulletin board club.” 

Towards the end of the day, she did a bit of shopping. Some shopkeepers praised her fan and tried to get her to buy a new one, but Yukiko declined when she realized that most of the fans would be unable to puncture someone’s skin. A somewhat morbid way of thinking, but she was a pragmatist, in a way. The fan had been the right thing to give her, after all. She couldn’t let go of it. She felt incomplete without it, as though there had been something she set out to do after emerging from the TV in April, but never did, and this gift, this token, was the only thing that relieved that pressing, bothersome feeling.

The others had become so close to Souji-kun. The things that bothered them seemed to be relieved. Yukiko wasn’t naïve enough to see Souji as a savior in any respect, and knew that the things that bothered her friends last year were likely still things they were grappling with today, just a little less so than before. And meanwhile, she still carried this with her: that incredible urge to stay here, to lie and hide and deceive. At least before, she would have been happy to stay in Nara. Now she was out here, but couldn't decide whether to stay or return home.

 

*

 

When she returned to her motel room, she found that she had left her phone in her room. There were four calls from Chie and a few text messages from her, too. Her father had typed a text message to her: “Dear Yukiko: Your mother and I hope you are enjoying the city. Get some fresh air. Take care. Love, Father.”

There was something wrong with either her or them. She was angry. They shouldn’t be so happy that she was gone. Didn’t they know that she might leave? If not today, then some other day. This was just a trial run, she told herself. One day, she'd go and never return.

At least Chie seemed worried. Yukiko, knowing that she was selfish, sent a short text message: “I’m fine. Please don’t worry about me.”

“where are you???” Chie sent back, and Yukiko didn’t know how to answer, so she shut the phone and put it aside.

Oh, Chie. So faithful and so loyal. It was one of her nice qualities, and an annoying one. Yukiko pressed her palm against her cheek, as though she were swatting a fly. Oh, she really was a terrible person. She would have to repay Chie somehow, for worrying her this much. Yukiko lay down on the bed. The leaves rustled outside. She turned on the TV and watched the news. If only, she thought, solving her problems was as simple as jumping into a television.

 

*

 

The next day, Yukiko decided to go visit a temple and pay her respects to the giant Buddha statue at the Todai temple. She took her phone with her this time, in case Chie called. She would pick up the phone and apologize if Chie did, Yukiko told herself. It was only fair.

People in the city were so fashionable and pretty. She was amazed by their clothes, their style, their strut. Every person by themselves, each person sliding past the other… Yukiko felt as though she was walking about with a “country bumpkin” sign on her back. She wanted to be one of those girls she saw, with their aggressive slouches and big sunglasses and the way they didn’t bow their heads and say, “Excuse me” when they bumped against someone, but instead adjusted their handbags, tilted their head away from the other person, and went on by. Yukiko, maybe by accident, brushed against a few girls just to see if they’d all react the same way, and was fascinated to see that they did.

She bought a camera from a small electronics shop above a French-style café. It fascinated her that a city should have enough room for a tiny shop like this. Cities really were amazing. The camera was an older model from 2008 and a few pixels on the LCD preview screen were stuck, making the resulting pictures look as though someone had splashed it with bright red and lime green paint. But it was cheap and she wouldn’t need it for long, anyway. On her way to the temple, she discovered that she could take as many pictures of people walking down the street as she wanted, and no one would pose or make faces or do anything except pretend they didn’t see her watching them. She captured the image of many scowling, beautiful girls in her camera, and resolved to use them as a model when she returned home.

 

*

 

It was odd being at the temple. They weren’t _really_ in nature. Nara might grow parks and craft the illusion that the Todai temple was far away from the city and civilization, but Yukiko was a country girl. She knew what it was like to look out a window and see nothing but flat rice paddies for kilometers. That was terrifying in one way. But looking out of the Todai temple and perceiving the walls where the illusion of the forest broke was terrifying in another.

The statues were bigger than she had expected. She had seen pictures of the big bronze Buddha in books, and she knew the statistics: Buddha’s nose was half a meter in height, the eye a meter, and the ear two and a half meters tall. She was shorter than the Buddha’s ear! She stifled her giggle to avoid drawing the attention of the other tourists or startling the deer.

She liked the temple, as long as she didn’t look outside its walls. The gardens were beautiful and tranquil. She felt almost at peace. Maybe she ought to become a nun. She tried to imagine Chie’s face, but all she saw was a Chie frightened with disappointment. Yukiko frowned. She didn’t want that.

She was getting a call. Not from home or Chie. It was Souji-kun.

 

*

 

It had seemed disrespectful to take the call while inside the temple, so she stepped out and stood by the gates.

“Chie-san called me,” Souji said. “She sounded worried.”

“I’m fine,” Yukiko said. "I'm sorry to have worried her."

“I know.” Souji sighed, though. “Are you in Nara?”

“Yes.”

“Would you like to visit?”

It wasn’t really a choice. When Souji asked for time, it was easier to give it to him than to refuse it. But that was the things she liked about him, wasn’t it. Always knowing what to do when he gave orders.

“Yes,” she said.

 

*

 

Souji lived in an apartment just outside the city. Yukiko took the wrong bus, and wasted an hour trying to find her way back to the right spot. She didn’t want to call Souji for directions. After all, someday she’d be out in a city, and she wouldn’t have Souji to rely on anymore. When he asked, she said that she had gotten distracted by something on the way. 

Souji was on summer vacation, but attending cram school over the break to increase his chances of getting into a good university. He looked tired and wan, but happy to see her. His parents were on break, so they had the apartment to themselves. There were almost no photographs in the Seta household. Paintings covered the walls, but the only photograph was one on the coffee table: a smiling couple with a young, dark-haired boy standing just off to the side, his eyes directed past the camera and to some unknown place. 

“I like the choice of furniture,” Yukiko said.

“It came with the apartment,” Souji said. “Some places are like that. Interior designers get a lot of work out here.”

She wondered if the paintings, all which were abstract and vaguely related to flowers, were also part of an interior designer’s job. “It certainly seems like it,” she said.

He tilted his head towards her, smiled. Then he said, “How do you like Nara?”

“It’s a wonderful city.” Except for that one deer that had bowed to her, and then bit her hand. What a brute.

“It’s a little small compared to Tokyo. But it's good looking.” Souji invited her to sit down at the small table. There was a large flat screen hanging from the wall. “How long are you staying?”

“I’m thinking about going back home tomorrow afternoon.”

Souji paused. He got up. “Thinking?”

It wasn’t as though she had to go back. Or that anyone would know if she left. She could go on an indefinite vacation. Get a pre-paid cell phone from that electronics shop where she got her camera, and take off for good. Even though she knew she wouldn’t do that, she still felt that urge tugging at her neck, like a leash.

“I might make a stop here and there on my way back up,” she said.

Souji was in the kitchen now, making tea. “Iwatodai again?”

“That sounds nice.”

“You should think more about where you’re going,” Souji said. “It’s tourist season. It’ll be hard getting a room unless you call in advance.”

Didn’t she know it.

“How is Chie-san?” Souji said.

“You've talked to her more recently than I have,” Yukiko said.

“I’m sorry.” He came back with the tea and some cookies. He really did look flustered by her refusal to answer. His expression was the same disoriented sheepishness as the boy in the photo; and that, in turn, made her lose her composure, too. “It’s hard talking with you sometimes. I always get so…” He bit his lip. "I don't know."

“I know what you mean,” she said.

“No, you don’t,” Souji said, but softly. “I’ve let you down. I’m sorry.”

She didn’t understand. But there were so many things about him that she didn’t understand. She was a terrible person. Maybe the real reason why she felt so uncomfortable with him was because he wasn’t like Chie, someone she could predict and… and manipulate. And he was her leader. He was supposed to help her. And now here she was sitting in his apartment, no better than before. Or a little better. But not that much.

“You tried,” she said.

“I failed,” he said. “I failed everyone.”

Yukiko felt exhausted suddenly. It was the heat and all the walking she had done. Yes, that was it.

“Do you knit, Souji-kun?” she said.

“No.”

“I’ll make you something for Christmas, then,” she said.

“You don’t have to,” he said.

“I’m making something for everyone.” Socks. Everyone needed socks, didn’t they? Chie certainly did.

“You shouldn’t,” he said.

A strange moment passed over them. Yukiko tried to convince herself that it was the heat.

“I can’t explain why,” he said. “I just think that you shouldn’t. Sorry.”

“It really is fine,” she said. After all, they were her problems, not his. He was her leader and… and maybe he was her friend. But Chie was her friend, too, and she didn’t tell Chie about any of this, and for good reason. After everything turned out badly with Souji, she had come to the conclusion that secrets were meant to be kept.

“I tried, but I can’t do anything,” he said, and Yukiko was filled with the sudden urge to tell him to get it together, because he hadn’t said anything else besides that in the last few minutes. Really, it was getting tiresome. He brushed his thumb over the back of her hand. Her breath caught. Maybe a wind blew through them. He leaned over, and kissed her.

“I really only want to help,” he said. His hand rested on her shoulder. She tucked her chin into her chest; then she kissed him back. She wasn’t sure if she was doing this right or if Souji had a girlfriend or a boyfriend or any of that, but Inaba felt far away enough to feel like a lifetime ago. And it felt natural instead of horrifyingly new this time around. Almost pleasurable. Yukiko thought that was a promising sign, and moved his hand from the top of the table and onto her leg. He reached beneath the dress and massaged her inner thigh. “Don’t tense up.”

“I’m trying not to,” she said.

“No, I mean… If you think about trying to relax…” His brow crinkled, a little, in thought. Then he said, “I won’t hurt you. Unless it hurt the last time. Not unless you like it.”

“It was fine,” she said.

He kept massaging her leg. His other hand was still on her shoulder, but she shifted her body, and his palm grazed over the top of her breasts.

It was easier when he was kissing her. Then she could close her eyes and focus on the sensation. After a while Souji stopped kneading her thigh and started stroking her hair—but that brought to mind, suddenly, the phrase “shameless hussy” and she had to redirect his hand back to her body again. She kept his tongue busy so he couldn’t apologize.

He really _was_ good at this. Objectively, that was. Maybe not manwhore-ishly good, just averagely good. It was comforting to know that he meant well, and wasn’t just having sex with her to say that he had done so. But the thought that he was doing this because he thought it’d make things better between them was depressing, too.

He let out a strange sigh, and shifted slightly. Then he muttered, “Hold on” and went down a hall. He returned with lubricant and condoms. They kept kissing.

Easier if she kept her eyes closed. This wasn’t her first time—it was her second, so all she had to do was avoid a sophomore slump, and remember to relax and not panic. Her tongue felt tired. She hadn’t even known that was possible. Souji rocked against her and she pushed back to match. 

“The zipper,” Yukiko said, and Souji reached behind her and undid the zipper. She wiggled out of the dress, and laid before Souji wearing nothing but her underwear and bra and socks. She took the socks off first and wondered if she should fold them. While she was thinking, Souji had taken off his shirt and undid his belt. There was a bulge in his pants. She reached for it, but he froze, and then shook his head.

“No,” he said. “You don't have to.”

“You should let me,” she said, although she wasn’t sure why she had offered. It wasn’t as though she wanted to, either.

“You’ll have to be careful,” he said. She was about to ask if he had injured it somehow when he explained, “If I end up coming before you do, I won’t be able to…”

“We could always do other things,” she said.

“I have a nice penis, though.” She couldn’t help it: she laughed. Souji smiled and chuckled a little; but then he said, almost uncertainly, “Really, I do.”

“No, it is nice,” she said, although she had only seen it once before. It felt pretentious saying so, but Souji looked a little relieved. “It’s just that—haha—it’s so unlike you to brag!”

“Even a guy like me has some good points,” he said. “And mine is… well.” He was flustered, and oh, it was almost cute, if not the way she felt mortified for laughing at something he was obviously sensitive about. “It’s true.”

She thought back to what he had felt like inside her. It had been a little uncomfortable. Better not tell Souji that. 

“You’re good at many other things, too,” she said. She was beginning to get a little worried, though. How was it that she was the one comforting him?

He kissed her, and they shifted again. He unbuttoned his pants, pushed them off of him and, perhaps because she had already done so, tossed his socks away. Then they were kissing again. His fingers slipped under the cups of her bra, and she shut her eyes again.

“Sorry. Am I doing something wrong?”

“No. Keep going,” she said, and he did, pressing his lips against her neck and one hand slipping beneath her underwear. It was easier if she pretended he was someone else. They weren’t very close to begin with, and it wasn’t as though they were dating, so it was okay. Although it wasn’t, really—but it wasn’t hurting either of them, and… this wasn’t the thing to be thinking about when his fingers flicked over her nipples. She was tense again. It was ruining everything. _She_ was ruining everything; Souji kept muttering into her ear to relax. That did help a little, and occasionally apologized, which reversed the whole process.

This was quite possibly the least intelligent thing she could have done on her trip here, worse than sleeping with him the first time. At least then she hadn't known that it would be this uncomfortable. Not physically uncomfortable, but emotionally; but now she was determined to see this through the end, by any means possible. It only seemed fair. She hoped Souji was thinking about a boy, or some other girl like the ones Yukiko had caught in her camera. A tall girl, boyish. One who spoke her mind and had nice, large hands—had to be large, Souji’s were, too. And that did make it easier, although she wasn’t so sure she wanted to be thinking of women like that. She was—couldn't be like that, but the more she struggled against it, the stronger the image became until she gave up on resisting and let herself fall into the fantasy. Soon she was wet enough that Souji asked if he could put a finger in her, and she said yes. She wished that he had kept his clothes on so she could pretend that she was some silly country girl who wandered into one of those fashionable girls’ homes by accident—I’m sorry, you were so pretty that I had to follow you—and then the girl looked her over and said, “No good, you’ll need to change if you want to fit in,” and off went her clothes—she moaned, and parted her legs. Souji eased a second finger into her, without asking. And then the city girl kissed her and asked what part of the country Yukiko had come from, and Yukiko would say, breathlessly, Inaba, in between kisses, and the girl would say, I don't know where that is, and Yukiko would say, no, she didn't know where that was, either and then the girl would add a third finger and hold her hips with slim, strong arms…

And then she realized Souji had stopped apologizing because he was licking her, fingers still plunging in and out. She whimpered into her hand. The girl in her head had bangs and wore bright, spring-like colors and had three fingers inside of Yukiko and... and that wasn't... Technically she hadn’t taken a picture of any such girl today, but Yukiko was sure she had seen one _somewhere_ , and that this girl would have happily screwed her senseless on a tatami mat, asked Yukiko to part her legs a bit further and ran her tongue all along Yukiko’s folds and then curve the fingers so they pressed right against that spot and she thought she heard Chie’s voice in her ear—what was she saying, oh, _oh_.

Souji pumped his fingers in and out of her for a little while longer, then removed them, and wiped them against his own leg. He kissed her, as though he wanted her praise, and she gave it to him. His lips were slippery.

“Are you ready?” he said. He was between her legs again, but this time his boxers were somewhere off to the side, and he had stroked himself to hardness already.

“Please,” she said, bleary and content. She tried to sink back into the fantasy but it was gone now—anyway it'd such a disservice to Souji. Souji really didn’t have a bad penis. Not in her opinion, at least. She wasn’t sure what made a good penis, anyhow. Even the word seemed to make her want to laugh.

It was easier this time. She was wet and ready and knew what to expect. Souji, ever the gentleman, put on the condom and went at a slow and steady pace. It was nice. Very pleasant. He came without a sound, kissed her a while longer, and let her have the shower first. 

 

*

 

Yukiko left while Souji was still in the shower, leaving a note thanking him for the tea and for having her over, but she really needed to get back to the motel. Souji texted back a reply while she was still on the bus: not a problem, he understood. He hoped that she would have a safe trip.

Yukiko took a few more pictures of people on her way back to the motel, this time making sure to look at all sorts of people, not just pretty girls, or girls who were jogging on the street, or girls with very nice legs.

She’d have to apologize to Souji later, she thought, taking a picture of a girl wearing a print dress with heavy resignation. It wasn’t him, it was her. But was that even an excuse she could give when it really _was_ her, and when they hadn’t been dating to begin with? At least this time she knew she didn't have to send a thank you note.

She thought about returning the camera to the shop, but decided against it. No one would be looking at the pictures aside from her, anyway; they weren’t good enough to warrant anything more than an immediate banishment to the recycling bin. And she needed more memories of Nara beyond “I slept with Souji again and saw a large statue of Buddha and now I think I might be gay. Also, I got bitten by a deer.”

 

*

 

The next morning, she went to see the Saidai temple because it was near the station that would take her to Kyoto. There was something romantic about these cities that she had never guessed at until she came and saw it herself. She called her parents to say that she’d be out a little while longer. Her parents, much to her ire, were delighted. “It’s so nice that you’ve saved some money to travel,” Mother said. “Go on. We won’t stop you. This is a stressful time for you with the entrance exam and the Inn. No need for you to stay here and work all the time.” So now she would definitely have to go back home. But not before seeing Kyoto. That would have to be her last stop; she needed to save money if she wanted to get out of Inaba after college. She’d go to college down in Kyoto or Nara or somewhere away from Inaba, and then she’d get a job and stay here. Chie might come, if she asked. Or maybe she’d find a… find a someone (probably a girl, maybe a nice, fresh-faced boy—either one was fine), and have sex that was not awful.

Chie hadn’t called her since the day before. Had she angered Chie, or hurt her somehow? She bit her lip. Chie would be upset with her, and she didn’t know how to fix it. Yukiko felt as though she knew now what she wanted and how to get it. The only thing was Chie. There might not be a way to take Chie with her; and if that was the case, it’d be better to abandon her.

Yes, it might come down to that. Yukiko didn’t like to think about that—it sounded ugly and cold and unkind—but if it had to be that way—if it came down between Chie and the Inn and these cities where Yukiko was headed for, then it was easy for her to see what she had to leave behind and what she could take with her.

From the temple, she heard the sound of a train pulling in. Yukiko checked her watch. She still had time. She pulled out her camera and took a picture of the gates, and then entered the grounds. She would pray here for a successful trip and a successful future outside of Inaba. That seemed like a fair thing to pray for. Yet every step she took into the temple made her feel sad, and after she made her prayers, she felt lost and hopeless, as though she knew nothing and only just realized her blindness then. It wasn’t until she was on the train to Kyoto that she realized that it wasn’t the temple that had made her melancholic, but the thought of leaving her small, provincial life behind. Yet that was how it had to be. And that was how it would be. Such was the price of independence: friendship and family, hometowns and familiarity. Yukiko looked out at Nara, blurring through the window, and knew that all those things meant nothing to her, or at least, were things she could give up. Nothing could stop her now. No, nothing at all.

**Author's Note:**

> "Strumpet" sounds more like a pastry than a sexually promiscuous woman, doesn't it?


End file.
